


Salt

by Quarkitty



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Oh god not the teeth, Ramsay is his own warning, Teeth, crying while jacking off, the things reek does for an apple core
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2815265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarkitty/pseuds/Quarkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay has a little treat for his Reek--but Reek has to do a trick that not even the dogs will do. But first, Ramsay has a few questions. Sadness and sexiness ensues. We all go to hell for this pairing, who cares, it's hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salt

Salt

“Reek,” Ramsay lifted himself from a wooden chair. He had been sharpening his flaying knives all night while Reek watched, his eyes half open. The kennel dogs were finally sleeping, his feet were under their mottled bodies for warmth. All had been quiet except for the sound of metal against a whetstone and the occasional remark about Reek’s hygiene. “Reek, I’m having difficulty remembering something. And you,” he pointed the newly sharpened knife at him, “may just be the one to help me.”

Trembling, Reek swallowed the growing fist in his throat. “Yes, m’lord? Anything.” He moved his feet away from the dogs and instinctively covered his toes with his hands. He cannot take what he cannot see.

Ramsay pulled out an apple from his coat pocket, tossed it from palm and palm and wiped it upon his jerkin. He nicked the skin with his blade, peeling it off in long, broad strokes. The skin furled down in a connected piece, the red stark against white. “A good knife can peel even the most stubborn fruit. The trick is to get right under the skin, but just barely.” He moved his right hand with deftness, finishing his circles around the fruit. “You don’t want to take too much of the meat on the inside. A steady hand is best. Are you listening?” He knocked on the kennel bars.

“Yes, m’lord. A steady hand is best.”

“You need to use every finger too. Not just the thumb.” The fruit skin fell to the floor in a perfect spiral, Ramsay picked it up and let it unravel. “Knives are perfectly designed for the human hand, it’s really quite a feat. Take notes Reek, if your stupid mind can hold this much in. Knives are our greatest tool.”

“Lord Ramsay is wise--”

Ramsay pointed the knife again at Reek. “Don’t. Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking.” He took a bite and chewed, juice staining his broad chin. Reek was happy he couldn't smell the sticky sweetness over his own stench. Winter was coming, but the fruit was still pregnant with juice, crunchy between Lord Ramsay’s teeth. “Well, Reek. Now here is the question I can’t quite remember. Answer it and I’ll give you the rind.”

Reek leaned in, ashamed of his own hunger. The red apple skin glistened in front of him, it was nearly a meter long. He nodded, careful to keep his mouth closed and the drool inside.

“I’ve been educating you quite rightly on the masterful techniques I have. That’s because I have one, two, three, four, five fingers.” Ramsay spread his palm to show them off. Like starfish, Reek thought, his mind briefly returning to a loud sea. Where did those memories come from, why can I smell the salt? A kraken inside him began to crave, when Ramsay took out a key and unlocked the kennel door. “Reek.” The word brought him back, and the salty spray in his mind vanished. “Come out here.” His legs were stiff and moved slowly, but Reek crawled out from the kennel and kneeled before Ramsay’s feet. He looked up, his eyes hovering just above Ramsay’s head, careful not to look his Lord directly in the eye. “I’ve forgotten how many fingers you have. Now, would you be a good dog and count them off for me?”

Reek stuttered, holding his hands out in front of his face. Of course he knew without looking, he counted them every night before sleeping, thankful to have the remaining ones. Seven. Between two hands he had seven, working fingers. “One,” Reek began, his voice snagging against the thorns in his throat. Ramsay flashed a toothy grin, biting into the last of the apple. He tossed the core to the side of the room. Reek’s concentration broke, his eyes darting over to the tiny morsel of thrown food.

“A rotten dog wants a rotten core, is that it? Well, I am feeling particularly generous today.” Ramsay sheathed his blade into a leather belt. “Tell you what. Stop your counting, you can answer my question in a little bit.” He walked over to retrieve the apple core and placed it on the floor next to Reek along with the skin. “I’m feeling so kind that I may offer you both these things if you do well enough. Is that good with you?”

Nodding so hard that his vision blurred, Reek gasped. “Yes, yes, My Lord is so kind!” Ramsay chuckled, pushing his long black hair behind his ears.

“Then be a good dog and listen.” Ramsay scooted the chair over and sat down on it. His smile was dangerously wide and bitter. “Before I made you, I used to give the dogs my apple cores and skin. But I wouldn’t just give it to them for free. Do you know why?”

Reek shook his head. “Reek is too stupid to know. Lord Ramsay is smart and knows better than me.”

“Oh, that’s rich.” The torches on the wall cast an orange glow on Ramsay’s face that only made his eyes look bluer. “I’ve taught you to well. But no, my sweetling.” The word flicked Reek in the face and stirred in strange ways. “I do want you to guess. Wrong or right, there is no penalty yet. Just a good, old-fashioned try will do. Why do I make the dogs do tricks before giving them a treat?”

“Because,” he fiddled with the healing skin around his missing fingers. The blisters were thick and pulsated. “That’s what dogs are for?”

Ramsay stomped a boot on the ground and clapped. “Good answer! Yes, that’s what dogs are for. Much like the hand, they are so well designed. You give them food and water and they do your bidding, what a beautiful relationship. Man domesticated the dog. Listen carefully, now this involves you. Can you guess how, Reek? How are you like a dog?”

The tears started to well, but Reek had become so good at keeping them at bay. “Because you made me, My Lord. And I serve you.”

Ramsay clapped louder, faster. “So smart, so smart. Well, for a dog, anyhow. What a smart dog! Yes, Reek. You aren’t a man anymore, you’re my loyal mutt. Now, dogs do all kinds of tricks. They can stay, sit, roll over, tear out a person’s throat. But you, you can do just a tiny little bit more than dogs can.” He leaned forward, his nose almost touching Reek’s forehead. “Let me see your teeth.”

Without hesitating, Reek drew his lips back into a grin. Ramsay stared at the missing teeth, those lovely holes so red and swollen. He moaned, deep from the depths of his chest.

“Dogs’ teeth are too sharp and they have too many for this trick.” Ramsay pressed a finger into Reek’s mouth, feeling around his tongue, his teeth, the back of his throat. Trying not to gag, Reek opened his mouth as far as it could go, his jaw straining from the pressure. “Dogs are loyal, but only Reek is loyal enough to do what I’m about to ask it to.”

Reek’s mind spun. No, no, he focused on one possibility and the tears began to swell. It was too much to hold back. Sure as he expected, Ramsay began undoing his leather belt, letting his smallclothes down to his feet. His grin grew, hungry. No, no, no, not that trick, Reek tried to conceal a sob but it passed his lips. The tears’ dam broke, he began crying freely. He lapped up a few of his own tears, the salt spreading on his pallette. Salt, salt, why could he remember the salty spray of water? A vision of salt water flowing over his hair overcame him.

“You whimper and cry more than the other dogs though,” Ramsay reached out and caressed Reek’s jawline, his fingers scraping his skin. He ran his ring finger over a bruise, a welt, a cut X into his left cheek. “Tssk, tssk, a dog should be happy to please its master. Now, let’s put that mouth to use.” Reek looked down at Ramsay’s lap and immediately shut his eyes. “Open your eyes!” Ramsay slapped Reek with the back of his hand, just enough to dizzy him. “A dog is happy to please its master, is it not?”

Reek stared. Ramsay’s cock was out and already hard, the thickness of it closed his throat up. Precum glistened on his reddened tip, dripping down the shaft slowly. Ramsay’s face was unreadable, he only smiled, his eyes focused on Reek like an arrow upon a buck.

“My Lord Ramsay,” Reek crawled his knees a few inches closer. “I am yours to use, just like a dog.”

“Have you ever tasted the seed of a man, Reek?” Ramsay dragged his nails across his servant’s neck, leaving fine white scratches. Reek shook his head, his nose pressed against Ramsay’s cock. “When you still had one, you never wondered what it tasted like? Well, my Reek, here’s a secret. It’s salty, it will burn right into the holes your molars left.” Trembling, he placed his cracked lips at the tip of Ramsay’s cock, feeling the head against him. It was warm, pulsating slightly. Ramsay’s breathing jerked ever so slightly, as Reek pushed his tongue against the slit, trying his first taste. “What does it make you think of Reek? The taste?”

He kept his eyes focused on his Lord Ramsay, but yet again part of him could see the water’s surface breaking in white waves. He shook his head, mouth removed from Ramsay. “I do not know m’lord, I cannot think of anything.”

Ramsay shook his head. “You haven’t been answering my questions very well, have you? Don’t you remember there is an apple core and skin at stake here?” Reek nodded. He remembered it well--his eyes betrayed him, glancing over to the scraps of fruit. Ramsay saw, he tapped Reek on the chin and snorted derisively. “Reek, how about we play fetch first. That will get you in the mood. In my pants pocket, there is something we can play with.”

Hesitating, Reek dug his hand into the pants at Ramsay’s feet. His breathing quickened once his hand hit something hard and metal. Cold. “The knife, m’lord?”

“No, no, keep looking.”

The relief only lasted half a second. Reek’s finger tapped on something iron and unwieldy. He tugged it out, it was heavy wrought iron. The clamp. Reek dropped it and cowered, bringing his hands up in front of his face.

“No, no, m’lord! I was being good! I was being good!” The sobs grew louder, taking his whole body in shivers and gasps. Ramsay leaned forward and grasped the iron clamp.

“Show me your teeth.”

“I was being good!”

“Show me your teeth, Reek!”

“I was good, I was good, I was ready to suck your cock and please you, m’lord. I was a good pet, a good dog. Just a dog, just a dog.”

“Show me your teeth!” Ramsay’s cock was still stiff, the precum still gathering at the tip.

Reek leaned forward, his eyes shut to slits. Every piece of him trembled. He opened his mouth, ever so slightly, but Ramsay jabbed his fingers into it and pried his jaw open. The ocean, the ocean, sometimes the sea hurt, didn’t it? Didn’t it sometimes knock him back and carry him out too far? A long gone memory of a girl giving him a warm cup of salt water flashed in hazy spritz. Warm salt water, he remember gargling it after losing teeth. But that was not with Ramsay--where had he been, where had--

The pain turned the memories to white. Ramsay clamped the metal against one of Reek’s front teeth and pulled, fast. The nerves popped all at once, a rush of cold air hit his bloody gums. Reek screamed, his throat hurt from the wail. With a laugh, Ramsay threw the clamp against the wall where it landed with a clank.

“I think I’ll keep the tooth though, it’s a lovely one,” he carefully placed it on the chair next to his thigh. “But first, you have to finish your trick, dog. Make your master cum with that pretty bloody mouth of yours.”

Blood and spit and tears mixed in Reek’s mouth. He dared not touch where the tooth had been, the pain was so raw and torn and burnt. The only consolation was that it was not a finger, he tried to remind himself, hugging his hands to his chest. Seven, he had seven fingers, all of them were his to use and touch things with. Seven whole fingers with the skin intact. Ramsay grew impatient with the howling and pulled Reek close to his cock by his brittle hair.

“Suck.” Was the only command he gave.

Reek started soft and slow, his mouth so dry against Ramsay’s thickness. He let the head of his cock into his whole mouth, and his saliva began flowing to keep it slick and wet. The precum drizzled into his throat, he swallowed the build up and tried to moan. If I make noises, he will think I enjoy it, Reek hummed a vibration against Ramsay’s fully erect cock.

“Such a good dog, yes. Yes, you’re learning. You’re learning so,” he moaned, Reek took the full length of him in his mouth. “You’re learning so well!” He screamed, his fists balled into hammers. “Such a good dog, my Reek!” Reek moved the length in faster and harder. His name upon his Lord’s lips sounded so whole. “My sweetling,” Ramsay’s voice thickened with honey and urging. Reek moaned on his own accord. The cock did taste salty, it tasted like the--water? It didn’t taste like water at all, Reek wondered why the image had come to mind and shook it out his head, sucking harder and deeper.

He wanted to please his lord, despite the blood rushing out of his mouth, leaving red streaks on Ramsay’s cock. He wanted to hear him say sweetling once more, to say his name, the name that he had been given. So kind, so merciful. Reek slobbered like a true dog, leaving bloody spit across Ramsay’s cock, dragging it up from his base to his tip. Ramsay gripped his finger’s in Reek’s hair, his own teeth bared, grunting.

“Good dog, good dog, just a little more.” He inhaled a gasp, his foot jerked. “Hold my cum in your mouth until I saw so, dog.” And with that, Ramsay came warm salty seas into Reek’s sore, bloody mouth.

Reek held it in, trying to breathe his best through just his nose. He lifted his head and met eyes with his master, whose face had broken out into blotches of post-orgasm perfume.

“Smile for me Reek, let me see those lovely teeth that I love so much.”

He smiled. The cum and blood ran out through the gaps between his teeth. It ran pink and frothy down his chin, sticky and smelling something sour. Reek let it all run out, the pain washing away with Ramsay’s seed. He was a good dog after all, he was. Ramsay stood up, his cock still dripping with aftermath, pulling his clothes on. He tossed the apple core to Reek, who bit into it carefully. It hurt to chew, but the tiny bits of apple meat tasted like divine intervention. He chewed until it became liquid in his mouth, moaning.

Ramsay watched his pet devour the core, seeds, stem and all. His eyes were still hungry, Reek noticed, the nervousness inching back up into him. The apple skin still stood there. He only did one trick, Reek realized, the fear knocking on his rib cage with metal hands. Ramsay had asked another question earlier.

“Now, if my stupid pet remembers, I asked about those fingers earlier. It’s slipped my mind again. How many do you have?” Ramsay tapped on the wooden chair. “Place your hands here and spread them out, I want to see.”

Reek complied, the bits of apple already threatening to come back up. He placed his seven fingers on the chair. All seven, all his. Ramsay leaned over, staring intently as if his hands were important maps.

“Count. Count them.” Reek heard rustling, he tried to ignore it, focusing on his seven full fingers before him. His knees still hurt, the caps growing bruised from all this walking on them.

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.” Reek smiled, looking up at Ramsay. “I have seven fingers, m’lord. Seven.”

Ramsay sucked on a finger, peeling back a hangnail with his teeth.

“Seven?”

“Seven fingers, m’lord, yes.”

The knife was drawn out so fast that Reek did not have time to retract his hands. With a horrifying slap of metal against meat, Ramsay lopped off Reek’s left ring finger. The blood seeped out, so much more blood than his missing tooth. Gushing, salty blood, running like waves, running like tides, running salty like the--

“Six.” Lord Ramsay Bolton smirked.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my very fist full Thramsay fic! And my first real sex scene, ever. What have I done. What am I doing. Why did I do this. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @ Quarkity. Come talk gross Thramsay shit to me.


End file.
